Trust me, bro
by HautkopfofUlm
Summary: When Chance learns about what Guerrero had been up to while he was trying to keep monks in Quebec from meeting their maker- tempers flare up. One-shot about how easily trust is lost when you take yourself too seriously. Spoilers for 'Sanctuary'.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target or its characters. All rights reserved to FOX. This is my theory, it belongs to me and is mine.**

**A/N: So, tree979 and I had a bit of a fallout over certain electroshock weapons. I apologized to her and we patched it up the best we could. But since I am the one who denunciated her publicly, this calls for an apology _in public_. So: I apologize to you, tree979, with this story. It's is not only dedicated to you and your readiness to forgive, it was written especially _for_ you. Although I merely shamelessly exploit our... impasse, I hope you like it. It's till fun to read for everybody else. (Warning: not betaed)**

* * *

"I thought it was cute when he tried to bribe Chance. Just gave him that ultimate taste of 'no dignity', you know."

"Guerrero, I'm not sure you're the right one to open your mouth on that." WInston growled.

"Dude there's a big difference between bribing and blackmailing. I, my friend, have _style_."

"Oh, so as your _friend_ I can expect you to make me do thing _with style_, can't I? How comforting!"

"Nope. Dude, you have no life, what am I supposed to blackmail you with? Might actually have to go for bribing with you." Guerrero shot back, grinning like a cheshire cat.

Chance couldn't help but smile at the bickering of his two friends, but his smile faded as soon as they entered the loft. It was nothing short from "unrecognizable". Everything seemed to be turned upside down, over or inside out and the chaos was perfected by hundreds of case files scattered over every square inch of the floor. Even Guerrero was speechless at the sight of the chaos. His eyes flickered to the upper floor as they made their way into the room. Chance seemed to have the same idea as he started up the stairs to his living room. After a second a loud bang and a hearty curse told Winston and Guerrero that their fear had been right.

"They cracked the safe. Impossible to tell what they took yet. Is Carmine down there?" Chance said from above them, then he set off to go look for the Rottweiler in the upper parts of the loft. Guerrero shoved his hands in his pockets and wearily began digging around a few loose file sheets with his foot. Winston made sure that Chance was well out of hearing range before he addressed the smaller man with the most menacing whisper he had ever heard.

"Hey! What the hell do you know about this? I saw that look when we entered. Surprise it wasn't. You knew that would happen, didn't you. And- you knew they would go for the safe. And don't even try to screw with me here. I thought Chance was worth more to you than this!"

Guerrero actually looked like the deer caught in the headlights for a second, then he found back to his impenetrable stare. "Dude, shut up. You've no idea what's going on here-"

"Maybe not, but you do! Tell me what they were looking for!" Winston stepped up to Guerrero. He didn't budge. He didn't talk, he just stared.

"Fine. I tried to do this the diplomatic way for _your_ sake, but I got news for you: I don't care about your sake quite as much as I care about Chance's. He doesn't deserve this crap. Least of all from _you_."

"Dude, don't."

"CHANCE! Get down here!"

Chance made his way down to his friends with Carmine on his heels. The look on his face showed utter despair. "I know what's missing."

"So does Guerrero." Winston let the phrase linger in the room.

"Winston, what are you talking about? Guerrero didn't even know that _the _case file was in my safe."

Winston's eyes grew big. "Are we talking Kath- case #001?" Instead of addressing Chance, Winston turned towards Guerrero who looked like a cheetah ready to jump its prey. Finally Chance acknowledged the hostile tension between the two glaring men.

"What's going on here? Guerrero?" Guerrero shook his head slightly, then looked up at Chance.

"Dude-"

"When we came here, his eyes were all over your safe, not the floor or the office or the file cabinets! He _knew_ something was up and he _knows_ what they came here for."

An uneasy silence settled over the group. Guerrero seemed to be waiting for something. Finally Chance lost impatience.

"Did you?" His voice sounded angry although he tried to control it.

"I didn't _know_ what would happen." He glared at Winston. "I had my guesses-"

"Guesses- based on what!" Chance became angrier by the minute. He didn't have to explain to Guerrero how important Katherine's file was to him. Guerrero, on the other hand, had a lot of explaining to do.

"A while back, some guy came asking for the material. I played the game, wanted to know who's holding the leash-"

"You handed them the file?" Chance's face showed a mixture of disappointment and incredulousness.

"Relax, dude. They never laid eyes on the file. Dude didn't keep his end of the deal, so neither did I. I got rid of the copy and that's that."

"You made a _copy?_" Winston couldn't believe his ears. Chance shot him a look. This was between him and Guerrero now.

"You broke into my safe. You stole the one file I didn't store with the others, so you knew what this file means to me and you _still_ did it- what for?"

Guerrero glanced up at Chance trying to estimate the level of danger he was in. He opted for the truth.

"To protect you. Was probably the same guys that busted us for the book, but at that time I just wanted to know what we're dealing with."

"'We'? I'm missing the part where you tell me about all this!"

"Dude, breathe. It was no big deal."

"_No big deal? _You should've come to us with that right away, but you stole into my loft and broke into my safe and now you're telling me it's 'cause you wanted to _protect me_?". Chance turned away from him and pointed at the mess: "How's that _protecting_ me? Guerrero, the file is _gone_! I make _you_ responsible for that! Now we don't even know who's got it and why and that's your fault!"

"No, it's not." Guerrero stated calmly. "The file. It's not gone. It wasn't in the safe."

Chance stepped up to him.

"You cracked my safe _twice? _When was that!"

"'Bout three months ago."

"Guerrero, what the-! You had NO RIGHT to do this! YOU SOLD ME OUT!" Chance was yelling now. It was the only way he could express how hurt he was.

"Chance, what's that thing to you anyway, you think I don't know how you use it to bathe in your self-pity, always in vain looking for your goddamn salvation? You ever thought that maybe you're better off without it?"

"HOW DARE YOU! LEAVE KATHERINE OUT OF THIS!"

"Speak for yourself, dude!"

"_Don't_ GO there! I never made a secret out of how I felt for her. I was honest with _you_ that night in the cabin!"

"Dude, I got it now. What was I supposed to do?"

"HOW ABOUT BEING HONEST FOR A START? I THOUGHT WE WERE THROUGH THIS BEFORE, GUERRERO!"

"I TRIED TO HELP YOU!"

"Bring it back. Right now. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!"

"And then what, bro, huh? What would you do with it?"

With two quick steps Chance made his way over to Guerrero and grabbed him by his jacket. Guerrero didn't hold him back.

"That was never your decision to make. You should worry more about what I'll do to _you_ if you don't leave NOW!" Chance shoved him towards the door so violently that the smaller man almost lost his balance. Guerrero looked like he wanted to say something else, but finally just shrugged his jacket back into place and turned to leave. He didn't hang his head or slam the door, he just left. Chance was still fuming.

"What!" he barked at Winston. The older man looked alarmed and weighed his words carefully.

"Chance, I understand that you're angry and all, but you just sent the only source of information we have on this out the door. Besides…"

"Winston." Suddenly Chance looked weary.

"Besides, don't you think you're overreacting, because it's Katherine we're talking about here?"

"You don't get this, do you. This is_ all about Katherine_. I couldn't care less if he took anything else from me, but not that. NOT THAT!"

"Oh I get this part alright, but Chance, this is not about Katherine anymore, it's about _you_."

"Why are you taking his side?"

"I'm not taking Guerrero's side. But I won't take yours, either. I'm just saying, I think Guerrero was honest when he told you he wanted to protect you. He's just not the type to ask you permission for it."

Chance slumped his shoulders. Suddenly all the anger inside him seemed to make room for regret. It was wrong to yell at Guerrero. It was foolish. And Winston was right. He was angry at himself, angry for Katherine's death, for this one big wrong he could never make right. The file embodied all that. He had gotten so used to the paper folder that he'd never thought about not being able to access it anymore. Somehow the pain became even more unbearable now that he knew the folder wasn't safely hidden in his safe. He wanted it back, but he had overreacted. He got carried away with the pain of his loss and Guerrero had to carry the can for him. Chance hung his head.

"So what do I do now?"

"I'm staying out of this. But I'm sure you'll come up with something." Winston smiled mysteriously as he made his way towards the office.

"Let's hope it's not too late for that."

* * *

"Guerrero? C'mon, let me in, we need to talk. Guerrero?" Chance's repeated knocking went unanswered.

"Look, I should probably give you some space right now and back off, but I need to settle this now. So if you don't come to me I'll come to you." Chance pulled out his set of lock picks and let himself into Guerrero's apartment. The alarm sytem was shut off, so he had to be home. He expected to find Guerrero point a gun at him or possibly charge him. What he found was a copy of the new style he had found his apartment in earlier. The floor was covered in paper, the few pieces of furniture were ripped apart, broken glass everywhere. Chance inched his way into the apartment with his gun drawn, but all was quiet. Maybe too quiet.

"Guerrero? Are you in here?" From his left he heard a faint rustling from behind a door. The nearer he came the more it turned into crackling. Chance threw open the door to be greeted by a thick cloud of black smoke and heat. Without thinking Chance took a deep breath and dove into the room. The high shelves surrounding him and its contents were ablaze. Chance found Guerrero flat on his stomach, half buried under his metal desk. He didn't dare open his mouth to talk to him, so he unceremoniously threw the limp body over his shoulders and carried him into the open area of his loft. He sat him up against the overturned couch and slapped and began slapping him in the face.

"Guerrero, wake up! WAKE UP!" Guerrero didn't respond. Making sure he was breathing, however raggedly, Chance went to find a fire extinguisher. The next minutes he spent in what were now the remains of Guerrero's office. Luckily, Guerrero didn't care much for carpets or curtains or wood furniture, otherwise, Chance mused, he would've been too late. When he was sure there were no more sources of fire, he opened the windows, then proceeded to do the same in the next room. Guerrero was still unconcious. But the second he turned towards the windows he heard the cocking of a gun.

"Guerrero? I'm gonna turn around now, okay?" And, raising his arms, he turned to face his friend. This was more like what Chance had expected in the first place. Guerrero pointed the gun directly at his forehead, a wild and irate glare in his eyes. He was breathing very fast and had to support his gun hand with his other hand as he kept one eye on Chance and surveyed the mess in his place as if he had never seen it before.

"Dude… what the hell'd you do _this_ for?" Chance almost dropped his arms in surprise. Guerrero's immediate flinch made him raise them again.

"_What?_ You think _I_ did this?" It was Chance's turn to be speechless at the accusation. Aghast he looked at his soot-covered friend.

"Honestly dude, I don't know what to think anym-" Guerrero was overtaken by a sudden coughing fit, but he never lowered his shaking hands. Chance took the opportunity to explain himself:

"Guerrero, I came here to make things right, not to set your place or you on fire. Put the gun down. Please, I need to get you to a hospital, you're suffering from smoke inhalation."

Guerrero stared at him for a while, then put the safety-lock on his gun and threw it on the couch.

"I'm just messing with you, dude." he said. Chance found it impossible to say whether Guerrero was telling the truth. Guerrero coughed again, and after a gasp added:

"That look on your face tells me we're even." He tried to grin, but had to suppress another cough. He failed.

"C'mon, Guerrero, let's get you out of here."

"Not going anywhere, dude. You came here to talk? Then talk."

Chance knew Guerrero wouldn't back down, so he did:

"Alright. Uh, I came here to apologize. Don't get me wrong, I still think it was wrong of you not to inform me or Winston- but- but I overreacted. You were right. I can't leave her, Katherine, out of this, although I should have. _I_ made this personal, not you. Geez, Guerrero, at least sit down." he added, when he saw Guerrero sway back and forth. Guerrero climbed on the overturned couch. "Go on."

Chance now stood before him, looking down at him.

"You know me. In our line of business I can't trust many people. But you were one of them and when I realized you worked behind my back, for whatever reason, all I could see was how you double-crossed me."

"I never double-crossed you, dude."

"I know that. Now. It's just what I felt. I don't know, you think I'm paranoid?"

"Pretty much. But that doesn't have to be a bad thing. If I'd known how you'd react, I'd have been on my guard more since the beginning, maybe even let you in. Maybe, dude, I'm not paranoid enough."

"Naaah, don't say that. Guerrero, I don't want to be the reason you start mistrusting your friends. You hear me?"

"Might be too late for that, dude. At least for now. You should know best that this stuff-" he started coughing again.

"- takes time to heal? Yeah, I know. But, I want you to know that I trust you. I am sorry." They looked at each other in silence. Chance was looking anxiously at his friend.

"You _can_ trust me, bro. I have your back. And… you know… apology accepted. You want your file back now, or what?"

"You mean, it wasn't here?"

"Dude, I live here, I don't work here. Whoever was in here was ready for me the moment I came in, but all they could set on fire at this place are my electricity bills. I went by my work place before I came here and the file's still there."

"Why didn't you bring it with you?"

"Thought it would be too dangerous to move it now that they were looking for it. I was just checking up on it and wanted to give you the address."

"Does that mean that you still trust me?"

"Dude, seriously, enough with the trust-stuff."

They smiled at each other. There was nothing like a good old-fashioned fallout.

**The end**

**The story's not only there for Tree, it's there for everybody to comment on it, critizise it, compliment it or help make it better, so take these your precious rights and _review_!**


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